


Double Turn

by Twiranux



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF), Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, FakeHaus, Fights, Fist Fights, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Isolation, Late Night Conversations, Mental Breakdown, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:05:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twiranux/pseuds/Twiranux
Summary: “I'm starting to think you really aren't here for me at all but for yourself,” Lawrence huffs aggressively, his fingers curling inwards.“It's not like that at all, would you snap out of it?” James pleads, clapping his hands together.“Stop thinking you're being the better person, you condescending asshole!”





	Double Turn

Tired hands grip against the black worn out jeans, running the palm specifically against the knees. The friction between skin and denim–the relatively soft flesh juxtaposed with the rough strands of cloth–releases the thoughts of frustration outwards. He had been sitting there for hours on end; his feet stretched out to be flat against the soil, parallel to his rear, yet perpendicular to his knees, and waist on upwards being upright.

He moves his head towards the left; a lean of indifference, yet a peculiar intended motion.

Lawrence stares at a particular nothingness, his mind simultaneously running wildly within and not thinking of anything at all.

Dusk hangs above the still atmosphere, like a taunt, the clear night contrary to his turmoil of emotions. His eyes might as well been closed, with his ears shut in; the lack of liveliness in the countryside causing the obscurity of any referential reality. The lack of processing stimuli brings upon an indescribable stinging sound and feeling in his mind–a certain numb state achieved from being disassociated.

His left hand curls into a ball–raising his forearm up to form a 90 degree angle with his elbow–before bringing his chin down to rest on it. A sigh. He sticks out his thumb, and begins to press it down on his throat–desiring the visceral reaction, but not actually acting upon it. Sucking air in through his mouth, he begins to gauge his lung capacity before wheezing with desperation.

A noise out of his sight distracts Lawrence, his senses flooding back to him as his eyes dart around to find the source of the noise. He lets go of himself, then pushes his weight forward to be on all fours. He slowly crawls toward a taller patch of grass, his dominant hand grabbing into his jacket and revealing a previously concealed gun. He shifts his body toward where he last heard the sound, and goes prone.

He shakes his head to make his mind focus, as he lines up the iron sight with his eye. Luckily, his discipline is very good, with his finger not at all on the trigger. This allows him to wait until further assessments could be made before reacting properly. All he could see from the hazy interpretations of his environment was his own motorcycle he has parked, as well as a strange area of cut grass a bit past that.

“You know hiding in the grass isn't all that useful when you're wearing bright orange, right?” A familiar voice critiques.

“And you know you scared me half to death just now because of this you just pulled on me,” Lawrence grunts heavily.

“Put your gun away and get off the ground. Come on now.” The man reaches out to help Lawrence up. Lawrence accepts the hand, holding tightly as he tries not to stumble and fall.

“Why are you here? Better yet, how'd you figure out I was out here, the middle of nowhere? Thought you're always too fucking busy to deal with shit like this, James,” Lawrence scoffs with a hostility unseen before until this particular moment. He fixes his glasses, then dusts the dirt off his his jacket and pants.

“First off, okay, my room is right next to yours? I can hear you yelling through the walls,” James explains, scratching his head. “Not that the walls are that thin, but it was quite obvious you weren't doing so good.”

Lawrence's hands retreat into his jacket pockets, as he begins to pace around James. The two don't stop staring at one another, with their nose bridges getting crinkles from their increasing frustration with each other. James straightens his back, and puffs his chest out. He then places his hands behind his back, with the right hand over the left.

“So, what's the real reason why you're here?”  Lawrence prods verbally, now purposefully kicking up dirt as he continues to circle around. James crosses his arms, and huffs. He finally stops, and walks up towards James–eye to eye. “I know when you're hiding something. This is one of those times.”

“You're showing very alarming behaviors recently, and I took up of the responsibility for your well being--”

“Fuck, by signing us up for that shit?! I wake up every goddamn morning with nothing but aches and pains—my legs and shoulders haven't even healed completely!” Lawrence spits violently at James, pointing down to his legs. “And that was four months ago now!” He then scoffs, wiping his face with his forearm.

James steps back, still standing firm, with the intended persistence of being there for his friend. His breathing becomes heavier.

"You could've told me you wanted to stop! I--” James places his hand on his chest, where his heart is located. He squints his eyes slightly, a frown beginning to form.

“I'm starting to think you really aren't here for me at all but for yourself,” Lawrence huffs aggressively, his fingers curling inwards.

“It's not like that at all, would you snap out of it?” James pleads, clapping his hands together.

“Stop thinking you're being the better person, you condescending asshole!”

Lawrence snaps completely, lunging forward with arms open and hands ready to grapple. He grunts as he attempts to throw all of his weight toward James’ direction, teeth clenched and showing no mercy.

Without much room for thought, James brings up his right elbow to cover the blow from directly hitting his body. Despite the illusion of having a steady stance, the force exerted pushes James down onto the ground, with Lawrence following through with his charge.

“Lawrence!” James shouts.

James’ forearm lines up parallel to Lawrence's chin and finds itself bashing against the neck. Lawrence releases a painfully strained croak, but still manages to bring his hands to grasp at James’ neck. Dirt kicks up as the two struggle with one another, with James shuffles his feet frantically, creating quick movements with his knees in hopes to get Lawrence to stop. His muscles become tense, putting his strength on the forearm he's trying to keep up. Then, with such a daunting impulse to survive the choking, and contrary to his dominant hand, James lands a left hook onto Lawrence's cheek.

This results in Lawrence letting go of his grip, followed by rolling off of James followed by thudding onto the ground to the right of him.  James’ eyes widen, his fist shaking violently right in front of him. He gasps at the sight of his own knuckles, followed by hideous coughs and wheezes from the trauma his trachea had just gone through.

With a sudden heave, he musters up the strength to get his upper torso off the ground, just enough to sit up with his legs fairly spread.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” James demands, wheezing out his words. He looks at the ground dizzily, trying to get a hold of himself.

Light-headed, he attempts to slowly level out his breathing. James then turns his body a little and takes a look at Lawrence. He notices to a quiet whimpering emanating from his co-worker.  

He scoots closer, now seeing Lawrence in a fetal-like position, covering the right side of his face. The whimpers turn into louder sobbing.

"I just want to win for once in my fucking life...I'm done throwing in the towel over and over again. Meanwhile you're constantly rising up and up, as far as even being a local legend! But look at me, getting set up against a bigger guy in the ring and losing tremendously...I thought that, if maybe...I could just…” Lawrence mutters incoherently, gently rubbing his hand against his cheek.

“Is...is this what this is all about? Those assholes...down at The Arena?” James leans even closer, going on his hands and knees, his face now hovering above Lawrence's. The two stare at each other intensely, yet only in a neutral state.

“If I could just get myself to hurt you...t-to betray you, then nothing else and no one else could ever hurt me,” Lawrence admits, lips quivering. He brings up his hands once again, but this time to just rest on James’ neck. “To take responsibility of the act I fear most...maybe it would make me callous, y’know? It would turn me into a cold-hearted, try-hard winner like the rest of them; to stop quitting for once. Everyone will stop looking at me like I'm a fucking loser, right?”

“Then do it, if that's what’s keeping you up at night. Beat me up! I've done nothing to gain your grace.” James commands, closing his eyes. He slows his breath, and speaks more softly. “Why fight the urge against something you want to do? You've given up literally  everything for this stupid dream of mine, just because, what, you care? About me out of all people?”

“I…” Lawrence trails off, digging his fingernails into James’ skin. He clenches his teeth once more, struggling with himself moreso than with James.

Suddenly, he pulls his James in, and thus causing James to collapse onto Lawrence. His grip on the neck doesn't disappear, but does loosen up a bit, as Lawrence stares out into the night sky, his mind flooding with messy thoughts not yet parsed. He rests his chin on James’ head; copper hair brushing against a bit of black stubble. He retracts his fingers from the flesh, and find themselves running through James’ hair.

“I can't...I am really just...destined to lose and be the hindrance..the bad guy of it all, like I’ve always been,” Lawrence groans, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.

“I'm...sorry.” James murmurs, his voice muffled and vibrating against Lawrence’s chest. “I know I'm not so good with being an actually decent, supportive person...But I want to understand, at the least; despite the fact I've said and done all the wrong things tonight. I mean, for fucks sake  I punched you in the face.”

“At least you give a shit, I guess? Not like the rest of ‘em, where they give me a predictable answer a therapist would fucking say. I... appreciate that.”

“So there isn't anything else I can do to help? You're not so bad as you see yourself to be...you know, if anything you're the good guy for being so resilient in your...suffering,” James says after a long pause. “I'm way too selfish to ever give myself up like that… not to say to be proud of being beat to shit per say, but you know--”

Lawrence snickers at James fumbling around his words. James pulls himself up and off of Lawrence,causing a thudding sound as he settles himself on the dusty dirt.

“I get it, I get it. And, well...I think you did all you could, honestly...I don't think that quitting any time soon without you would actually do me any good...it's just nice to let things out, I guess.”

"I'm always here if you need me, you know that. And I promise from here on out I won't be so rough during our one-on-ones, alright? You've got enough beating you up on the inside and out, you don't need me adding onto that.” James gives a firm, reassuring pat on Lawrence's shoulder. He stands, stretching his arms up and groaning. Then he offers a hand to Lawrence, who gladly accepts.

“Let's get out of here already. Don't you wanna lay down in more comfortable, like in a bed, instead of the grass and dirt?” James suggests.

“I still sort of want to be away from the crew. I don't think I'll be up for anyone asking questions, or for just being around others,” Lawrence sets the record straight.

“Want me to just set up the back seats of my car and sleep in there for the night?” James points toward the general direction of where he parked. “And besides, what makes me so special again?”

“That sounds...great,” Lawrence decides, the two walking in pace of one another toward James’ car. “And it's because you just...get it, you know? No bullshit, I don't need to explain anything because you were there to see the problems unfold...it's so cathartic when it's you.”

“It's like as if I serve as an emotional punching bag, almost.”

James can't help but grin largely from his own joke while looking at Lawrence for any sign of a reaction. He, in response, simply shakes his head.

“As stupidly sappy as that sounds, you're mostly right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Double turn: The occurrence when both the face and the heel switch roles during an angle or a match. 
> 
> It's explained in the WWFH universe that James is a face (hero) while Lawrence is a heel (villian).


End file.
